


The Only Thing Scarier Than Halloween Is Interpersonal Relationships

by brogendered (notmydivision12345)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-26
Updated: 2015-10-26
Packaged: 2018-04-28 05:25:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5079520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmydivision12345/pseuds/brogendered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feuilly and Enjolras are hooking up, but they haven't made any sort of romantic commitment. Both of them want to, but are too scared they'll ruin their relationship to bring it up. What happens when Courfeyrac tells them to do something as a "couple"?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Only Thing Scarier Than Halloween Is Interpersonal Relationships

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ginogollum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginogollum/gifts).



October 27th

“Any ideas?”

Enjolras looked up from his laptop. “Any ideas about what?”

Feuilly was looking at him, his hair still sticking up from sleep, his eyes unfocused and soft. “Wow, have you been working all night without checking your phone?” It was obviously a rhetorical question, because he didn’t give Enjolras time to reply before adding, “Courf wants a costume party. Extra points if it’s a couple or group costume.”

“Points?” Enjolras asked, briefly glancing at his phone, which, yes, had 25 notifications, most of them from the group chat.

Feuilly, back to drinking his extra-large morning coffee, waved the question away. “Don’t ask. So what should we do?”

“Can we even go as a couple?” Enjolras asked, before realizing that, no, this probably wasn’t the time.

Feuilly didn’t seem upset, fortunately. “Well, we haven’t explicitly told anyone, and you never come round mine, but everyone knows we’ve been hooking up. You were into me for almost a year before we even did anything.”

Enjolras was in love with Feuilly: with the way he looked in the morning; with the way he didn’t let the injustices of the world drag him down, just fuel him; the way he would work for everyone’s benefit without sacrificing his ability to care for himself; even his flaws, the way he was independent when he didn’t have to be and shouldn’t be. Right at that second, though, he didn’t love his ability to completely miss the point.

He wasn’t asking whether or not other people would consider them a couple, but whether _they themselves_ considered the relationship serious enough for couple status. They had been dating – or at least spending lots of one-on-one time together – for a while, but much to Enjolras’s emotional turmoil, they hadn’t actually discussed what they were. And with a group like theirs, you couldn’t just assume that any sexual or ostensibly romantic entanglement meant anything in particular. Maybe Feuilly – Feuilly, who could be so insightful about anything that wasn’t interpersonal relationships – thought of them as queer-platonic sexually intimate partners?

He justified not bringing it up by telling himself that neither of them had the time for the potentially long conversation that might follow if he pressed the issue.

Proving Enjolras’s point, Feuilly finished the last of his coffee and gave Enjolras a quick, closed-mouth kiss on his way to the door. “I’ll text you later. Get some fucking sleep, you lunatic.”

“Hey, I did sleep for little,” Enjolras said, getting an eye roll and a wave that said: I’m late, and you slept for probably three hours total. Then Feuilly was gone, off to the first of his shifts that day.

 

He probably shouldn’t have been taking the phone call at the tail end of his lunch break, but he had worked through that anyway, so it’s not like anyone at the office could get upset. “Courf? What’s up?” he asked, happy that his desk was isolated and he wouldn’t even have to get up.

“Enjo,” Courfeyrac’s voice still had the level of enthusiasm it had had when they had met, in the first year of college, and Enjolras didn’t know how he did it. “My darling, sweet Enjo. What are you and the boyfriend dressing up as?”

“Uh-“ Enjolras couldn’t decide which assumption to address first: that he was going to dress up or that Feuilly counted as a boyfriend.

Courfeyrac didn’t care. “Listen, I know you haven’t started planning yet, because it is entire days away and you procrastinate on these things. I’m just reminding you because I think that it’s a good opportunity to tell Feuilly how you _really feel_.”

“Seriously, you think I’m going to, I don’t know, dramatically confess my love for him when we plan our matching costumes?”

“Yes,” Courfeyrac hissed, obviously keeping the volume down for no other reason than because he, too, was at work. “I’m not saying that it’s something you would do with prompting, but, look, Enjo my main man, I’m here doing some prompting.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but grin into the case file he had been skimming. “Ah, so this has all been an elaborate ploy to get me to propose marriage to Feuilly at the middle of your party.”

“Exactly, I need good pictures for Facebook. Also, just thought you should know, the ever-lovely ‘ferre agrees with the plan. The real plan, to share your feelings at least once in the future, not the fake one about marriage.” Courfeyrac paused, then sighed. “ _Lamentably_ , I have to get back into the coal mine so I can make enough to keep him in tweed. Take care of yourself!”

“Bye,” Enjolras said. Before he could concentrate fully on his work, he got a text from Courfeyrac.

 _do something classic & romantic lol_, it read. _beauty and the beast. yr obviously the beast in that situation._

Enjolras stifled his snort.

 

Feuilly wanted desperately to come up with a costume idea. A funny idea, maybe. An idea that said: hey, Enjolras, I'm down with this no-strings-attached deal we have going on, but I’d be interested in something more defined.

He wasn’t actually super worried, though. It wasn’t like the costumes themselves were of any importance. He was just using them as a way to deal with his anxieties about all the things he wanted to say.

A peanut bounced off his forehead. “Dude, I can hear you overthinking from over here. Snap out of it.”

Bahorel looked smug as hell, so Feuilly had to throw something right back at her. The something was, unfortunately, the newspaper he had been holding, so it didn’t have quite the affect he had been hoping for. It was the thought that counted anyway, right?

“Nice try, loser. So what were thinking about? Was it me? I bet it was me. Do I have to break out the Mariah Carey again?”

Feuilly started picking up the pieces of newspaper that had scattered all over the room as he made his way to where Bahorel was sitting. “Of course it wasn’t you, idiot. Can’t a man be tired after a long day doing real work, not just sitting on my ass in an office?”

“Ooh, look at me, I’m Feuilly and I’m a manly man who works with his hands.” Bahorel pitched her voice way down even though Feuilly’s was only slightly deeper than hers. “I plow my fields and milk the cow every morning as god intended.”

Feuilly collapsed next to her. “You’re the funniest person I know.”

“Damn right. Speaking of plowing your fields, you never did get home last night.”

Feuilly grunted instead of dignifying that with a response. Why did everyone care so much about his problems? He had it under control.

“I take it you haven’t stopped with the no romo stuff.”

Feuilly was too damn tired to talk about it.

Bahorel got up, hopefully to leave him alone with the news he finally had time to catch up on. Before she was out of the room, though, she had her parting shot. “Dude, I’m telling you, literally everyone knows that you should just talk this out.”

Feuilly let out a small groan, because, honestly, he had known that. Did he have to be reminded? Did he really have to risk fucking things up with Enjolras? He wanted to be more sure that Enjolras would take it well.

 

October 29th

“What are other people dressing up as?”

Feuilly looked down at Enjolras, not expecting that he would still be thinking about it. It wasn’t like him to remember about things that he didn’t consider important; and Feuilly hadn’t expected him to prioritize it. “I don’t know about everyone. I think Bahorel and her girlfriend are coming as characters from Legally Blonde, and I’m pretty sure Joly, Bossuet, ‘chetta, and R are going as ‘French Kiss,’ whatever that means. I think it’s an internet thing. Jehan has definitely decided to attach themself to Éponine for costuming purposes, but I don’t know what they have planned. Probably something weird. Why?”

“I was hoping for inspiration, honestly,” Enjolras admitted, not looking him in the eyes.

Feuilly ran his fingers through Enjolras’s thick, black hair, happy that his position with his head in his lap gave him easy access. “We could always go as, I don’t know, vampires?”

Enjolras still wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Nah, I wanted to go as, well, a real couple.”

Feuilly was torn. Part of him wanted to avoid the conversation, which would be uncomfortable, probably, and might even make things too awkward to handle. But another part of him realized that Enjolras sounded pretty fucking on board with the idea of romantic partnership. Maybe this was the sign he had been hoping for. As the silence reached maximum awkwardness, Feuilly finally summoned up his courage and asked, “Are we still just talking about costumes?”

Enjolras stilled completely, eyes completely closed. At least he hadn’t actually moved away. “No,” he said, obviously reluctantly. “We should probably talk about what we want from each other. We haven’t checked in with each other about it in a while.”

Feuilly was quiet until he realized Enjolras wanted him to go first. He looked up and away; sighed. “Well, I think I would be interested in something explicitly romantic. Not that I don’t enjoy our time together already. And it isn’t like it has to be serious.”

Without even looking down, Feuilly could feel the tension leave Enjolras’s shoulders from where they were resting against his thigh. Risking a glance, Enjolras was smiling. All good signs.

“Me too,” Enjolras said, and Feuilly knew he meant it just from how happy he sounded. “Me too.”

Feuilly went back to playing with his hair, not sure if either of them had to say anything else. He found that he wasn’t really surprised even though he had been so afraid to say anything, and he was cursing his fear for getting in the way of this next stage of their relationship. Who knew how long ago they could’ve started expressing their romantic feelings, enjoying a romantic relationship?

Enjolras suddenly sat up quickly, scooted closer, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, an unusual move for someone who rarely initiated physical affection. “Good, now we can concentrate on winning this costume competition or whatever the fuck Courf’ is planning.”

“Oh, man, winning, not a thing I would have expected you to want to do.” Feuilly was amused to realize that it hadn’t just been romance that made Enjolras remember about the costume party.

Enjolras looked at him with faux seriousness, a smile threating to crack his neutral expression. “I know, I’m full of surprises.”

Feuilly looked into Enjolras’s beautiful, delicate face and couldn’t help reaching out to cup his face and brush a thumb along his cheekbone. “Hey, maybe we can talk about this later.”

Enjolras finally gave into the smile he had been fighting and leaned in closer. “Hmm, what do you propose we discuss instead?”

Feuilly put his other hand lightly on Enjolras’s knee. “I don’t know, but I’m sure we can think of something together.”

Enjolras closed the last of the space between them.

 

October 31st

“Oh, shit,” Feuilly said, suddenly.

Enjolras looked up from his laptop, actually somewhat concerned. “What?”

“We didn’t ever plan costumes, and the party starts in, like, two hours.”

Enjolras glanced at the clock on his laptop, which confirmed the worst. He tried to think fast. “Okay, couples. Give me a second.”

Feuilly raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but gave Enjolras time to think.

“We’re going to dress up like a couple in our friend group. I think we have enough clothes here at my apartment to look like any of them except our resident threesome.”

“Shit, that’s actually a good idea. Which ones?”

Enjolras waved a hand. “You can chose,” he started, but Feuilly was already shaking his head. “Too much pressure? We can be Cosette and Marius; they have a distinctive enough style together.”

Feuilly leaned across the table to press a quick kiss to his lips, which made Enjolras’s heart swell. “Thank god you’re brilliant! If you want, I can be Cosette.”

Enjolras smiled up at him. “Perfect. Let’s go look at my collection of floral clothing.”

 

“Guess which two people are in the kitchen making out!”

The sound of Courfeyrac’s _extremely loud_ voice made them pull apart suddenly, but Feuilly kept his hands firmly on Enjolras’s waist. “I don’t know, who?’ he said, deadpan in the face of an obviously overjoyed Courfeyrac.

“Oh, my god. So you two _obviously_ worked out all your little issues. I mean, I suspected, since no one’s seen either of you since Thursday afternoon, but . . .” he trailed off to leer at Enjolras, “get it, Enjo!”

Feuilly felt Enjolras shift a little closer. “Shut up, Courf’,” he said as Feuilly asked, “What, did everyone know?”

Éponine appeared in the doorway in an elaborate costume that screamed ‘Jehan made me’ – some sort of fitted, black and white stripped top, a pale green skirt torn into strips, and weirdest of all, some sort of reverse cape thing that seemed to be defying gravity. “Yeah, everyone knew. You two act like we’re not all up each other’s asses literally every second of every day.” Only after saying that did she notice the looks she was getting from everyone. “What?”

Jehan appeared behind her, also in something improbable: some sort of white leotard-binder-garter belt combo with strips of fabric floating over their shoulders and to the sides of their legs. “We’re orchids. I’m a ghost orchid and she’s a cockleshell orchid.”

“Obviously,” Éponine said.

Jehan, obviously already stoned, turned their gaze at Feuilly and Enjolras and said, “Oh, clearly I’m not the only romantic in this room, although I imagine that my intimacy with the capital r is rather specific to me.”

“Is everyone going to come in here and stare at us? Because if all of you saw it coming, I don’t think you need so much confirmation,” Feuilly said. He loved their friends, but they could be such a handful.

Courfeyrac was all smiles. “Well, we still need confirmation that you two have moved into, as dear Jehan suspects, romantic territory.”

“We have. Happy?” Enjolras answered, snaking a hand under Feuilly’s crop top as he did.

“I am now that you are,” Courfeyrac answered. “Now, let me get you too some celebratory beverages. Witches’ brew or Dracula’s blood?”

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written Feuilly/Enjolras before, so I hope it was okay! I tried to keep it mostly fluffy with, like, the smallest possible amount of conflict. Also, if you need help picturing Jehan's and Éponine's costumes, or anyone else's, drop me a line on my tumblr (when writers are revealed) and I'll send you a sketch lmao (also, yes, i meant to imply that Jehan and Grantaire are getting down & dirty when Jehan talks about being romantic/Romantic)


End file.
